The Greywood proved dangerous to our journey. Having encountered a manticore after accidentally nearing its lair, the three of us were forced to fend it off while we retreated from its position. Being a mixture of multiple beasts, some have surmised that they are a mutation from some arcane magic of a druid sect, creating a feral, twisted abomination of nature. Having dragon wings, a rhinosaurs body, clubbed tails of the platewyrm that lived among the desert of Incantaria proper…that of the natural land of their realm, and heads of a great venomous serpent, a great maned wildcat with a Uniboar horn at its forehead, and that of a man. It’s body was covered in leathery skin, smooth with a sheen and difficult to pierce unless with precise force behind the attackers effort. Rushed for time, we didn’t have the desire to engage in combat with the legendary beast which predated Regalia, we had to get to Sosha, quickly. Soon this great war would rage and Sosha needed to lend its aid. The cost of failure in that battle would be absolute.

The Manticore’s roar from that great cat head, accompanied by the random shrieks sounding out from the human head on its form, proved loud enough to serve as alarm for Regalian patrols. Soon, we encountered some of them on horseback, and to my complete surprise, they scurried away from our position. Uncertain what the reason for this was, I was grateful at the notion of them not impeding our mission. Perhaps they were more worried about the stirred Manticore sounding off. Quickening our pace, the desire to report all of this to His Imperial Majesty overrode any sense of warrior’s pride I desired to fulfill in vanquishing those standing before us, beast or humanoid.

Exiting the edge of the Greywood, the grayish colored canopies of those trees, along with their gray colored bark would challenge our colored garbs for staying anonymous no longer. We were wise to avoid the Elven sect encompassed within the Greywood known as Faunvale, a region of the forest known as the Whispershade for its Elven traps…and further in yet through Fauna’s Hollow, depositing into the Spiritglade near the Fairywood and their traps. Many dangers and secrets lay within those trees. Now, we headed towards the vast stretch of plains known as the Emerald Belt, stretching from the eastern edge of the Greywood, fringing a bit towards the north amidst the Kingsplain, covering much of the expanse between these two territories up to the Soshan Mountains, acting as a natural deterrent in our defense against Regalia. This territory we traveled now was the Knightfield, the more densely populated region of Regalia. Their limited harbors bordered the lands we’d travel amongst, and several castles and keeps were erected along the journey.

Long ago, before the civil wars ravaged Regalia, Mallegant was Regent of the North, stationed in Kingsplain and in direct control of the King’s royal guards, his most trusted and powerful regent. Maddux Constance was Regent of the East, leader of Knightfield province. Gillan Rhysgarde was Commander under Mallegant, and after Mallegant’s defection, was made Regent of the South, of Greywood province and the King’s brother was placed as Regent of the North, the next most trusted and powerful Knight in Regalia. Dawson Braddock was Regent of the West, of Amberplain. After his defection, Commander Wilhelm was promoted to Regent of Amberplain, though his tactics seem a bit subdued in nature in comparison to the amped nature they had taken under Braddock’s charge against Vanguarde, almost in hesitant compliance, going through the motions of attacking Vanguarde but devoid of the passionate response required of subduing a blood enemy, a traitor to their crown. It showed me a rift in the loyalty amongst the nobility of Regalia.

The King’s brother, now appointed Regent of the South and lord of Greywood, Galt Debonair, now held the charge for an extended territory within Regalia, and that meant a heightened danger to all nation not allied with Regalia. In fact, the King’s brother was perhaps the most dangerous of all of the regents and former regents of their realm.

His skill with a blade was unquestioned in his mastery, his temperament was erratic and unpredictable, making every encounter tense and potentially fatal. He’d slain foreign representatives for discourteousness towards him, on some instances referring to him as “esteemed Regent”, at other times for referring to him instead as “his royal highness”. At different times, he lauded being referred to as either of these titles by different individuals, or one instance, of being referred to by the same title by the same person on two separate occasions. The first time was met with glowing praise for “honoring his standing”, and the other time was an irreparable insult towards him that made him react with brutal violence.

He, along with several others, enlisted their children into the Crimson Order of Regalia, an elite training program for the noble progeny to attain great combat skills, honing themselves against the very best, their training program noted for several fatalities each year of those noble sons exhausting themselves or proving themselves incapable of defending themselves against their opponents. It was ruthless, and it came as no surprise that this unstable and powerful regent’s son became the “blademaster” of this elite Regalian unit. Their training ground lie hidden somewhere in Vanguarde, before it had officially declared independence. Actually, this blademaster was one of two amidst the children reared to be elite fighters…there was another, the son of former Regent Constance. Both of them possessed skills truly fearsome to behold, and I imagined Regent Debonair was skilled equally in some way based on the rumors heard about him.

Vanity was a large component to his psyche, reports indicated. Donning a mask, he did so to feminize himself in portrayal, believed to be a strategy to lower the guard of the unaware representatives in his midst into a false complacency regarding their interaction with him. Obsessed with his appearance, there are few that have taken in the sight of his natural face, it’s said, and he is one singularly obsessed with his outward appearance and controlling the measure to which others judge him, all being designed to play into his deliberately created social interaction. Uncertain whether or not he was either a master at deception to this end or completely unstable in his mind, either was possible due to the intermarriage of his parentage. It is well-known that royal family members had married siblings in the Regalian line several times, fearing the seizure of power from the Royal family by their trusted Knights, this paranoia being fueled again and again by the generations who would continue to do so in effort to maintain control. The instability of their minds would repeat with the ensuing generations until in today’s age, King Argos and Galt both fuel the speculative theory of paranoid royals doing everything possible to maintain the royal seat, even if it meant choking the life out of their Kingdom and alienating those loyal and powerful subjects under their command.

I had crossed swords long ago with Maddux Constance during his time as Regent, and his skill surpassed my own in that moment. It was Yanzar who came to my rescue, much in the mold as he did when General McCabe of Highland challenged me. In the moment of combat against Constance, I was appreciative, admittedly less so when Yanzar interfered against Highland. I could have bested that Highland general, McCabe…but Yanzar insisted that would not serve favorably to our objective. Hesitantly, I abided with his council. Regent Debonair was more fearsome. I’d seen him fight only once, and it was against Trosius. Sent to assess the combat readiness of our neighboring nations, His Imperial Majesty bid me to mingle in amidst the southern lands of Knightfield, bordering Greywood. At the time, Debonair was not stationed near there, but his forces were present. Finding it difficult to hide myself due to my complexion differing from that of the people of this vast continent, I hid among the shadows as Trosius charged northwards at the encroaching Regalian force. The battle was fierce, spilling into the woods at times, forcing me to take up a position a bit further away, being wary of Manticore then as I was once again so recently.

As fires blazed amidst this battle zone, one combatant drew my attention most easily, one who made such precise sword strikes, piercing with great speed like a serpent’s head struck, it finding its fatal mark with each thrust, no movement was wasted besides these fatal blows. He took a stance of placing his shield outwardly, minimizing the angles attackers could take at him, and with mask in place, somehow judged exactly when to thrust and deliver these fatal blows. Some surrounded him, and a bloodbath was left in wake of this while the fires raged all around him. As the sun had set and the fires provided the most prominent source of light, I could spot him more easily, the number of dead at his feet kept mounting, his effort waning in not the slightest bit. He never tired, and his skill was admittedly frightening to me, a comparable report had been formed regarding the esteemed Highland Governor, Silvermayne. Cowardice is unbefitting in my eyes, but I could assess Debonair commanded more skill in combat than I. Even now, I knew it foolhardy to challenge him, and I worried we’d face him on this dangerous journey, a thought causing me more anxiety than any other encounter we could come face to face with headed home. My skills had improved since then, but I was in no position to test them out, currently. Someday, perhaps, I’d get to do so.

Days of evading patrols and seeking lowlands to hide from view of the gentle sloped plains at times allowed us greater measure of anonymity as we trekked eastwards still. To our south lie the ruinous Trosian “lands”, consigned to the sea, filled with creatures of death, disease, hazy distortions and erratic, mysterious magical discharges amid the murky pitch colored water; the dreadlands left in the wake of Magnus’ powers. To our east quite a ways loomed the mountains of home. Time crawled on as we trekked eastward, until a sight ahead of us brought me great worry, that of a Regalian patrol who had us in their sights. There was no way out from their vantage, the time to turn away and seek refuge further downward of this slope had already passed. Getting a sense of worry about me, I turned to glance at my companions who were already making an ascent uphill to meet them head on and subdue them. Five riders on horseback stood to challenge us, one of them began firing arrows down at us. Yanzar summoned a gale to shield us better, I raised my shield as well to protect my face. The cost being that I couldn’t fully take in the sight of what lie ahead, now.

Nearing the top of this rise, I suddenly saw the reality of our situation become much more grim. It suddenly made sense what had happened when we encountered that Regalian patrol in the Greywood. They hadn’t ignored us, they left to gather others. Covering the expanse of plains before me, I saw close to perhaps fifty or so Regalian soldiers standing at the ready, weapons drawn and glaring our direction. Halting us three as we neared the top, forcing a decision among us regarding how to attempt escaping this situation, the ranks parted, and a familiar and dreaded sight approached closer to us: Regent Debonair himself. His gait was rather feminine as he walked with dainty steps, his sword sheathed still…a left-handed combatant, I noted, and closed the gap between us all…

(excerpt from Chapter 19, Advancement, from Paragons: Age of Illumination, Volume IV)